


Whiskey Fight

by Alvara



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvara/pseuds/Alvara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you had told Dean Winchester two nights ago that he would be waking up naked on top of his brother covered in whiskey that morning, he probably would have asked you how that three martini lunch went before slugging you one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Fight

If you had told Dean Winchester two nights ago that he would be waking up naked on top of his brother covered in whiskey that morning, he probably would have asked you how that three martini lunch went before slugging you one.

It had started with two bottles of Whiskey in their motel room after a seven hour drive, the poltergeist haunting a suburban house gone, along with one of its occupants sent off to the nearest hospital. Dean had kicked one of the Impala’s wheels hard once they got back to the motel, freshly purchased whiskey bottles bagged in his hand and heart weighed down with guilt at one of the wheels of his baby going flat along the road up to the city.

It had been his fault really. He should have guessed that the tires wouldn’t take well to fast speeds along a crappy rural road. If they had been there an hour earlier, the owner of the house wouldn’t be suffering a few cracked ribs and a broken jaw from a particularly nasty poltergeist not taking well to a new edition on the side of the house.

Sam and Dean settled into the room they had bought for the night, another case in Missouri catching Sam’s eye as Dean returned from his booze run. It was about four hours away, an easy trip for them considering their average of eight hours a day stuck in a car with each other, Zeppelin blaring loud while Sam distracted himself with whatever thoughts were in that brainy head of his.

So Dean thought they could take the night for a little R&R, watch some mindless television and down some quality whiskey from a local shop even if it probably still tasted like cheap ass. He cracked open the first bottle, taking a swig and deciding he’d had worse before grabbing a few glasses, pouring Sam a tall one before the younger hunter could protest.

Sam didn’t seem put off by it though, most likely understanding what Dean was trying to do as he followed suit and downed half the glass after his brother before the tap of his fingers on the keyboard filled the silence of the room again. Dean flopped onto the bed Sam was using as a chair instead of his own, grabbing the remote and intending to use the fact that this bed was closer to the television as an excuse if Sam asked. He never did.

Four glasses and a few drunken grins later, Sam had abandoned the laptop to argue over a shit made for television movie that neither had seen before. Sam took the side of a cute brunette chick with a bob cut who was obviously not interested in the dark haired man chasing after her that Dean quickly sided on with the simple drunken explanation: “He’s hot. Why wouldn’t she bang ‘im?”

A few more explosions, scenes with bad acting, and glasses of whiskey, and they had forgotten their half-assed argument when the woman had inevitably fallen in love with the man due to a crap plot twist. After the movie ended, Dean clicked off the television quickly, swearing at the talk show that came on and at how motels never had anything good on that wasn’t a couple bucks more than free cable.

Sam had laughed, giving Dean a good view of a goofy drunk grin as he noticed that between the third and fourth shot of whiskey, Sam had climbed into his personal space till their elbows were brushing up against each other and so were their thighs. It didn’t help too much that they had stripped down to what they were going to sleep/pass out drunkenly in that night. Why Sam had stripped down to just his bare chest and not his usual V-neck was probably the whiskey affecting him.

It was probably the whiskey that was making Dean’s eyes linger a tad longer than appropriate on Sam’s abs too. He lifted his glass to his lips once he managed to tear his eyes from trailing down to his younger brother’s legs just covered in a pair of dark boxers, realizing that it was empty and that he had lost count on how many he had at that point. Sam nudged him in the ribs lightly as he leaned over to grab the second bottle they were on, sitting back against the bed’s headboard and smirking when his little brother held out his own nearly empty glass.

“You still have some, bitch.” Dean yanked the bottle away when Sam’s fumbling hand reached for it, a teasing grin on his lips. He flinched when a sudden slash of lukewarm liquid hit his face, sputtering a bit and shaking it from his eyes before opening them to see a bright smile on Sam’s face.

“Not anymore, you jerk.” Sam’s smile stayed even when Dean thrust the bottle at him, coating his chest in a large amount of whiskey that trickled down to soak the hem of his boxers. “Oh, it’s on.”

Dean couldn’t keep track of who was winning the sudden whiskey fight between the drunk hands yanking the bottle and glasses back and forth and the continuous splashes of whiskey in his face, shirt, and once or twice on the thin material of his own boxers. When they were both soaked, boxers and shirt clinging to their skin to the point were you could clearly see everything including their cocks through the thin material, Dean’s drunken mind apparently thought it was the perfect moment to jump Sam, tackling him to the floor and starting some obscene wrestling match between them that he swore was meant to be brotherly.

Until Sam had pinned him to the floor, hips pressed intently to his to use his weight against Dean. He had groaned, meaning for it to be a signal of defeat but it came out far too breathy and Sam’s hips were feeling far too good grinding down into his for it to come out as anything but pleasured. He shut his eyes, knowing that the whiskey was going straight to his head when he was starting to get hard from being pressed up against his brother. It wasn’t helping that his shirt had ridden up in their short scuffle, leaving his chest flush against Sam’s, the slickness of the whiskey making Sam have to press himself closer to him so he couldn’t use the slip of their skin to escape easily. They were both panting hard, drunk, and Sam’s lips were only an inch away from his with how he had to stretch up to pin Dean’s arms over their heads.

He met Sam’s eyes when he felt something pressing into his thigh, matching his own hard on trapped in the confines of his soaked boxers. Dean expected Sam to pull away, for this to be something they blamed on booze and working too hard again. He was too busy thinking of how awkward sobering up would be in the morning that he missed who kissed who first, the drunken tangle of hot tongues and the sharp nipping of lips drawing him back to reality as he realized his hands were free and groping his brother’s fine ass. Dean felt Sam end the hot mess of a kiss, lips and tongue that tasted like warm whiskey sliding down to attack his neck as he squeezed his little brother’s hips closer to his, the small grind of their hips now deliberate instead of tactical.

Sam finally got a good grip on Dean’s whiskey slicked sides and ground down into him harder, slowly and thoroughly rolling his hips in purposeful thrusts that sent sparks of pleasure trilling up and down Dean’s spine so quick it nearly gave him whiplash. The slick material of their wet boxers slid easily across their skin, the thin fabric making it so easy to feel how hard the other was. Dean arched his neck to give Sam more access to his neck, moaning a slur of Sam’s name as small bruises of careless bites bloomed along his skin, a flick of tongue making shivers run down his spine every time Sam licked the whiskey from his soaked body.

Dean moved a hand from kneading his brother’s firm ass, sliding it up Sam’s back and gripping Sam’s shoulder to hold him closer. His skin was soft and smelt like the cheap liquor they fought with, the heat coming off him soaking into Dean’s palms and sinking deep into Dean’s core. He exhaled suddenly as Sam worked on sucking a new hickey into his neck, knowing that no one else he would ever meet or be with could be as comfortable as being with Sam, would scream ‘home’ as much as Sam’s skin against his did. He drunkenly thought that maybe this was all they really needed, one night together to heal all the cracks and claims on their souls and just belong to each other. Fuck what the world thought and wanted, he had his brother and the world could burn for all he cared.

Then again, his next thought was on how well his little brother could give head, so he forgave himself for the alcohol induced chick flick thinking.

He was so distracted in his thinking that he wasn’t aware of Sam’s hands drifting lower, slim fingers were slipping under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down until the fabric reluctantly parted from sticking to Dean’s skin and slide down his legs. Dean kicked them off once they were low enough, Sam following him and taking off his own before tugging off the last piece of clothing separating them, Dean’s undershirt. He threw it across the room, making a wet plop against the carpet before Sam’s hands were back on him, feeling over every inch of his skin as Dean did the same. Their mouths met again, tongues invading each other’s space as they fought slowly to get a deeper and lasting taste of one another.

Sam’s grip tightened on his ass until he was being manhandled, catching himself in their shared drunken daze from Sam’s strong but unbalanced grip. He was yanked up onto the bed, legs straddling Sam’s bare lap as his younger brother sat on the edge and pressed close together, Dean finally being taller than his baby brother by sitting on his spread knees. A moan he couldn’t tell whom it belonged to rang out when their lips met again, the trace of alcohol still heavy on their tongues but slowly fading into a mixed taste that could only belong to them.

Dean groaned as he thrust his aching cock against where wet thigh and hip met, pulling out of the kiss and biting his lip a bit harder than he meant to as he longed for more but didn’t know if they were drunk enough for that. He opened his eyes, meeting Sam’s lust blown ones without even trying and whispering his brother’s name softly.

Sam kisses him again, the light brush of Sam’s own erection against his thigh setting Dean off as he grabs the back of the taller hunter’s neck roughly and forces the kiss deeper, rougher, biting Sam’s lip until the tint of copper stained their tongues. Nails raked a little too rough down Dean’s back, hand groping his ass harshly and spreading him a bit more as Sam breathed heavily against him. He could tell where this was going, a drunken incestuous grope session was one thing but with the way Sam’s still damp whiskey covered fingers slipped lower and rubbed against the tight pucker of his ass, this was going to take a hell of a lot more alcohol to deny later.

Dean gasped as Sam shifted their hips, taking control and wrapping a large hand around their cocks as he moved so they could easily press against each other. The warm, slowly drying hand slowly jacked them off together, the strokes uneven and a bit sloppy but still able to force Dean to bury his face in the crook of Sam’s damp neck. He moaned when Sam started to tease the rim of his pucker in slow strokes, passing over it again and again before moving to rub it in shallow circles that grew rougher and rougher. Dean felt a shiver of pleasure spike up his spine as Sam let out a loud hum that sounded like a slurred growl, his brother’s weight leaning into him like he wanted to be closer to him.

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s back again, grabbing his opposite shoulder and pressing them close enough that it was starting to grind the bones of their shoulders together uncomfortably. The hand wrapped around them quickly distracted them from that as the lazy strokes quickened just a little, a twist of Sam’s wrist at the end of the stroke making a exhale of a moan leave both of them at once. Dean bit his lip hard as he lifted his head and felt Sam press his face into the side of his neck hard enough to hurt, tangling his free hand into the brown mop of hair and clutching at Sam.

The small humping motion of Sam’s hips up into his made him breathless, wondering if it was entirely the whiskey’s fault that he wanted his brother to throw him down and fuck him open right then. He gasped and tensed slightly as the tip of the finger teasing his rim slipped inside, just the tip but it had Dean moaning and heat pooling below his stomach despite it. Sam kept the small circling motion up inside him, stretching him the smallest amount, but god, Dean wanted more than a quick drunk fumble would allow them.

His back arched sharply as Sam took the second he relaxed against the intrusion to slide more inside him, getting up to the second knuckle before slowly stroking in and out in small rocking motions. Dean panted loudly, moaning softly and continuously as Sam soon had his entire finger inside of his ass, switching between light thrusts that matched the bucking of his hips and rubbing areas that had Dean tightening his grip in Sam’s long hair.

Sam was kissing and nipping at the side of his neck, an long stream of grunts and groans leaving him as he stroked their cocks roughly together, thumb rubbing into the slit of Dean’s and shoving him right to the edge. Dean couldn’t help it when he spread his legs more, fucking himself down onto Sam’s finger like it was Sam’s thick cock and all but pleading to come. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing Sam’s name, wishing that his brother’s cock was inside him and marking him as Sam’s.

When Sam slammed his finger inside him too hard, hitting his prostate directly, Dean was gone. He came with a shout of Sam’s name, coating his brother’s abs and hand in his seed as he threw his head back, mouth open and back arched. He panted against his brother’s shoulder as Sam stroked him through the sparks of his orgasm roughly, a gritted shout of his own name echoing around the motel room after a few more strokes before Dean felt something hot splash against his stomach and softening cock.

They sat there for a moment, harsh breathing leaving them and filling the silence as sleep tugged at them. Sam laid back on the bed, dragging a limp and relaxed Dean with him as he didn’t even bother moving farther up the bed. He held Dean to him with his wet hand, finger still inside him and not leaving just yet thanks to the protesting groans leaving his older brother every time he attempts to slip it out carefully.

Dean groans louder when he feels Sam pull his finger out all the way, about to say something before it returns, wet and a bit sticky. It feels good when Sam slides it inside him, rubbing against his walls, marking him, Dean realizes as he notices that Sam’s using his own come. It’s definitely the whiskey in him that makes him spread his legs and let Sam go back and forth, using enough of his come that Dean can actually feel it when he finally gets lulled to sleep to the sound of Sam’s rhythmic breathing.

And now if you told Dean Winchester two nights ago that he would be waking up naked on top of his brother covered in whiskey and full of his come that morning, he’d apologize for slugging you and offer to buy you another three martini lunch today.

He showered quickly once he woke up, pulled on some clothes and yanked Sam onto the bed more before tossing a sheet over him. The air wasn’t thick with tension like it should be and Dean didn’t feel the usual pull of guilt in his chest he should have. Instead, he sat at the small table by the window, two cups of coffee in front of him, still warm, waiting for Sam to wake up so he could take his turn of hugging the toilet bowl that morning before easing the slamming hangover with coffee and a few aspirin like Dean was.

And instead of sitting there, panicking over the fact that he had just had sex with his little brother, Dean was smiling at Sam’s dorky sleeping face. It hadn’t been the best orgasm of his life, but it was still pretty damn intimate for a drunk fumble in the dark. Dean licked his lips and took another sip of his coffee, catching himself eying Sam openly when his little brother turned in his sleep and let the sheet slide down to reveal the deep V in his hips. He wondered if Sam was a better fuck sober, of what they could do if Sam felt that this was less ‘drunken accident’ and more of something that was a long time coming like Dean did.

Dean sipped his coffee again, tearing his eyes away from Sam and feeling disgusting for not feeling disgusting.

But when Sam got up and kissed him good morning, he forget how he was suppose to feel and kissed him back with a grin he wished he could blame on booze.


End file.
